


polaroid

by xahnadu



Series: a drifter’s gambit [3]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Fluff, Mentions of Sexual Content, Other, Song fic, also angst, because i’m too much of a coward to write smut, fluff? a little bit of fluff, in this house we love and respect the drifter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xahnadu/pseuds/xahnadu
Summary: Or, alternatively, “A Drifter’s Reverie.”(updated w/ epilogue)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEY welcome back  
> this is a short songfic so make sure to listen to “polaroid” by imagine dragons for maximum enjoyment 
> 
> enjoy and leave a comment if you want <3

_I’m a reckless mistake; I’m a cold night’s intake_

Drifter blinked his eyes open, the harsh light of the sun peeking over the horizon of the Earth and peering into the tall windows of the Derelict. He squinted and brought his hands up to rub the sleep from his eyes, a content, sleepy sigh pushing out of his nose.

He felt warmth at his side and his eyes slid over to the form curled up with their back to his chest. The Drifter didn’t smile as he glanced over the peaceful, lightly snoring Guardian. It was the most relaxed he had ever seen them in a long while.

He pushed himself up so that he was propped up on his arm, gazing down at the Young Wolf with an indescribable emotion swimming under his skin.

_I’m a one night too long; I’m a come on too strong_

More often than not he couldn’t catch them in the Tower. Too busy doing the Vanguard’s dirty work and putting their life on the line for people who couldn’t give two shits about whether their savior lived or died.

Sometimes he went out with them on a patrol or mission, just because he knew that the Guardian needed some kind of interaction other than with dead aliens and shotgun shells.

Some nights, though, when they were too burnt out to go on another patrol or when they returned from a string of operations, the Drifter could sweep them up into doing something relaxing. 

“Relaxing” was a relative term. Sometimes relaxing was restocking Gambit arenas or beating the shit out of each other in a sparring session. Other times it was eating a meal in the City with a bunch of Gambit regulars, full of crude jokes and binge drinking. 

His favorite, though, was when they lounged around on the Derelict together. 

_All my life, I’ve been living in the fast lane; can’t slow down, I’m a rolling freight train_

He liked having the Guardian to himself, even just for a little bit. Despite being a dog for the Vanguard, they were still a part of his crew; that and a little more.

It was no secret that the Drifter was a selfish man, and he wouldn’t deny it. Arguably everything he has done in the past has been for his personal gain.

The last time he remembered doing anything truly altruistic was when he buried the bones of the villagers he had once called friends nearly 500 years ago.

His relationship with the Hero was complicated and simple all at the same time. Complicated in the way that they never knew what would come next, if the trust they had would last forever, or who was coming after them. Simple in the way that they found comfort in each other, where the Guardian could finally be something other than Savior, where the Drifter could finally stop feeling the aching cold that still lingered in his bones.

Whether snapping the Guardian up into his ship was more for his benefit or theirs, he couldn’t figure out. 

What they did in the Derelict varied. 

Sometimes the Drifter cooked. Despite all of his jokes about eating various aliens, the Guardian had once told him, his cooking wasn’t anything to turn up a nose at.

Sometimes they sat together and talked, just enjoying the intimacy of conversation and idle hands roaming across the plains of their bodies.

Sometimes there was no conversation, just a peaceful silence as they went about their respective tasks. 

And, sometimes, like last night, there were hurried movements and desperate touches. A centuries-old hunger for warmth that stirred deep within the Drifter, a frantic need for contact that the Guardian craved after weeks of being kicked around on countless missions. Armor and robes were promptly removed and Ghosts kindly exited the room.

Drifter wasn’t one for the morning after, but every time he woke up with the Guardian next to him, he found himself liking it more and more. Something so satisfying about seeing them in his bed, covered in strewn sheets and blankets that still smelled like cedar and sex.

_One more time, gotta start all over; Can’t slow down, I’m a lone red rover_

The Guardian was not the first instance of this feeling. No, he has known what it felt like to crave someone like this before, but he has learned not to chase it. 

Relationships among Risen were complicated because of the implications of immortality ever-so-kindly provided by the Traveler. 

Because he has learned his lesson when it comes to romance. They all die or leave, Lightbearer or not. And you can’t protect them. 

And that was what made this feeling under his skin so infuriating. He knew better than to feel this way, because one day, the Drifter knew that the Guardian would be gone. Either that, or he would be. 

He wouldn’t admit it, because he was as stubborn as stone, but the Drifter knew that he loved the Guardian. The rogue knew because he hadn’t felt anything like this since he had the name Wu Ming. 

_Woah, how did it come to this?_

An idea interrupting his reverie, the Drifter rose from the bed and pulled on the first pair of boxer-briefs he found.

He padded over to a pile of junk that he kept hidden in his closet, opening the door and pulling the box out. Drifter tried to keep his movements as quiet as possible in order not to wake his companion; he had learned the hard way that waking them up before they were ready was not the best idea. 

The man spent a good deal of time rummaging through the junk until he made a noise of victory as he pulled out a small device.

It was this relic that had been given to him a long time ago: a handheld camera, dubbed “Polaroid.”

All of the film had been used save for one. 

Drifter walked back into the bedroom and approached the bed. He climbed on, hovering over the Guardian with the camera in his hand. The man looked down at them fondly, studying the peaceful expression on their face. He brushed the side of their face with the thumb on his free hand. 

They were lovely, he decided.

He settled back on his haunches and positioned the camera so he could peer through the viewfinder. When he was satisfied with the composition, he pressed the button and the camera flashed briefly before starting to spit out the piece of film.

_Love is a Polaroid;_

The Guardian beneath him stirred, a sleepy mumble escaping their parted lips. “...Eli?” 

“Go back to sleep, ain’t nothin’ needing saving today,” he murmured, setting the camera on the stand next to the bed and carefully grasping the developing film.

They heeded his words and nodded, easily falling back into their slumber.

The Drifter climbed off of the bed and walked over to the windows, leaning on the railing and watching as the picture slowly emerged on the piece of film.

He could start to make the details out. Their hair messily splayed out on the pillow, parted mouth, serene expression, curled fingers resting on either side of their body, covered in wrinkled sheets. The picture was delightful, and his chest squeezed with that heart-wrenching feeling.

_Better in picture,_

In the end, he knew that this Guardian would break him.

And he was content to let it happen.

_Never to fill the void._


	2. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guardian decides to take a stroll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hand slipped and wrote an epilogue thing

You blinked your eyes against the strong sunlight filtering through the tall windows, squinting as the light seemed to pierce through your head.

Your eyes slowly focused and you realized the light was rather the looming form of Nessus, not the sun. Ah. Drifter must have pulled the Derelict into orbit for a Gambit match.

Hands gripped the sheets covering you as you shivered. The bed was cold. You blinked over at where Drifter had been and threw your arm over the empty space, mourning the departure of your lover. 

It seemed that even though the Drifter forced you to get some rest today, he still had a schedule. You felt a twinge if disappointment, but you quickly got over it. Last night had been more than enough, and you were sure that you’d find some time with him today.

Another shiver wracked your bones and you sat up in bed, drawing the blankets around you over your shoulders. The Derelict was teeth-chattering cold, even when the bedroom was closed off from the rest of the ship. Your lack of garments didn’t help, either.

You decided to hunt down the rogue lightbearer. Your eyes spotted the Drifter’s robe, the one he wore over his green _gi_. You swiftly snatched it off the armchair as you rose to your feet and wrapped your naked body in it. It was thick and warm— it smelled like cedar and gunpowder, too.

His coat draped nicely over your form, the sleeves hanging from your arms without any gauntlets to secure them in place. 

The cold nipping at your bare feet, you exit the living quarters and wander out into the depths of the Derelict. You wondered if it had always been this cold— perhaps it had been a bit warmer before the Nine gifted the Haul to the Drifter.

Perhaps it hadn’t. Perhaps the Drifter didn’t notice the cold after so many years.

The thought hung heavily on your shoulders, a sudden sadness for your partner coming forth.

You were one of the only ones who knew the Drifter, knew what he had been through, what he had endured. You couldn’t imagine the anguish, the feeling of being brought back over and over again. 

The transmat room hummed with electricity as it warmed up, and your suspicions were confirmed. He was prepping for Gambit. You poked your head in for a minute, glanced around for the lightbearer, and promptly exited the frigid chamber.

The cold was numbing the soles of your feet when you happened upon the monitor room. It was where the Drifter controlled the many camera feeds, announcements, and the Guardians’ transmats. You quietly approached and took note of the cup of coffee on the desk, still piping hot. It was loaded with what you deemed a disgraceful amount of cream and sugar. It seemed that, even with age, he had not lost his sweet tooth.

Your eyes roamed the rest of the setup when you discovered a peculiar object resting on the desk. You reached out and picked it up. It was old-fashioned and underexposed, and made of a material you hadn’t encountered before. It had been ages since you’ve seen or even heard of a developed photo. But what caught your attention the most was that it was a photo of you.

It was almost embarrassingly intimate, the photo. Messy sheets and blankets draped over your body, your crazed hair and flushed cheeks against the cold. There was nothing gratuitous or seductive about the image, but you could feel the intimacy of the entire scene. 

Your cheeks started to warm when you heard footsteps behind you.

“I was wonderin’ where my coat went,” a gruff voice sounded. More footsteps and the Drifter was peering over your shoulder, his torso pressed against your back. His lips twitched upwards when he saw what was in your hands. He brings an arm around you and carefully takes the photo from you.

“I had an old Polaroid camera I was savin’,” the Drifter mused, “and I was feelin’ rather inspired this morning.”

As you turned to face him, you vaguely remembered waking up to a flash of light. “It’s lovely,” you say, suddenly feeling warm from head to toe as you rest a hand on his broad chest, tracing your fingers over the folds of his _gi_.

The rogue rumbled out a chuckle. “My thoughts exactly.” He placed the picture back down on the desk and ran his hands over your body, curious eyes roaming over your appearance.

“Damn, you pull that old thing better off than me. Did you bother with putting anything on under it?”

“Nope.”

“I like your style.”

You pulled him down into a kiss: a lazy, sloppy kiss that tasted like sleep and the toothpaste he must have used earlier. 

He pulled apart from you when the Derelict shuddered, an alert appearing on one of the monitors, mentioning something about Guardian jumpships inbound for a Gambit match. 

The Drifter looked a tad disappointed, as if he had forgotten about his schedule in favor of making out with his favorite Guardian. 

You huff a laugh at his mock expression. “I suppose you need this back,” you said, gesturing to the coat wrapped around your body.

He shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Too cold for you to be walkin’ around in your birthday suit.”

“You’re going to go give your pre-Gambit pep talk in just your _gi_?”

“Cold doesn’t bother me. Besides, they won’t notice it missing anyway.”

You sniffed at him, obviously unsatisfied with his answer.

The Drifter huffed. “Fine, I’ll tell you what,” he said, leaning back and shifting his weight to one leg, “you go and put on some decent clothes, come back, and we’ll watch these guys beat the snot out of some Taken.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, and you lean in to peck him on the lips before turning to leave.

The Drifter glanced for a moment at the picture and then back at the Guardian, who had poked their head around the corner to wink at him. He grinned in response before flicking his wrist in a “shoo” motion.

What the Guardian didn’t see was the fault in his expression after they disappeared, something like longing, and they didn’t know the achingly bittersweet taste of _them_ on his tongue. 

He pulled on his headband and approved the entry of the eight Guardians to the transmat room before striding to greet them. Drifter stepped onto the platform, the cold nipping at his fingers as Guardians stepped onto the plates and flashes of jade rolled across his knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment if you please <3 they help keep me motivated and i enjoy replying!


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